S.L. Jennings's Blog
May 10, 2013
FEAR OF FALLING Cover Reveal & Excerpt!
FEAR OF FALLING HAS A COVER! And it is GAAAWWWGEOUS!
If you haven't added FOF to your TBR, do it now! It will be out July 18th on Amazon, B&N, Kobo and hopefully iBooks, just in time for some beach reading.
For those who don't know, it is inspired by true events. So there will be some truth between the pages. ;) Check out the teaser below. Hope you enjoy!
“Hey,” I smiled, stepping behind the bar and tying the little black apron around my waist. Dive had just opened and was completely empty aside from the day shift preparing for the lunch crowd.
Blaine turned from his task of refilling the soda dispenser and crooked a grin. I could only describe it as polite, and that fact tore me in two.
“Hey, Kami.” His deep chocolate eyes narrowed. “You change your hair?”
I twirled a lock of my honey blonde highlighted mane and shrugged. “Felt like I needed a change.” I didn’t have the guts to tell him that it was really an attempt at bribery by Angel. She knew I was a whore for spa days at the upscale salon she frequented and used my weakness to try to get me to gush about my feelings for Blaine. It didn’t fully work as she intended but I did throw her a bone: I told her I was attracted to him. It was harmless enough. Even a 90 year old deaf and blind woman would have a raging lady boner for him.
Blaine gave me the most genuine smile I had seen from him in days and I swear I felt something in my chest swell. “I like it. Makes you look…I don’t know… devastatingly sexy.”
I didn’t try to stifle the blush that I could feel heating my cheeks. I embraced it. It was the first time I had felt anything but regret in days. “Yeah?”
“Hell yeah,” he said, closing the distance between us in three long strides.
And there it was again. The smell of mint and spice and pure male. The heat that seemed to roll off his body and enfold me like a mink blanket. Those intense brown eyes that made me forget my own name and had me imagining screaming out his. Him. It was all him. Blaine somehow made me forget me. The me that wasn’t allowed to feel all these beautiful, exciting things. The me that didn’t believe in happy endings. The me that was unlovable, and in turn, could never, ever love.
“You were sexy before…unbelievably so. But the way the golden strands seem to meld with your green eyes, it just… wow. Makes it hard to look at anything or anyone else.”
I sucked in a breath of air and let it out slowly through my mouth, closing my eyes in attempt to regain some sense of composure. “Blaine…” I couldn’t say anymore. His name, occupying my tongue like his skin once did, was enough.
“I’m sorry,” he sputtered quickly, breaking me from the sweet memories of tasting him. My eyes fluttered open to him looking sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with a tattooed hand. Shit, even that was sexy.
“I think I should explain.” He rolled the barbell in his mouth before flashing me a strained grin. “I have this habit of always saying how I feel, no matter how embarrassing it is. A long time ago, I didn’t speak my mind. I didn’t ask the right questions because I was afraid of the answers. And life shitted on me because I kept my mouth shut. So I vowed to always be brutally honest and let the chips fall where they may. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.”
I looked away, seeking refuge from his penetrating stare. It didn’t make me uncomfortable. His words, his presence, it made me anxious. It made that pesky flutter in my stomach evolve into a full on swarm of butterflies.
“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable,” I replied, speaking my truth. For once, I didn’t let fear suppress my first instinct. “But you do make me nervous.”
“Nervous?” Blaine asked, crooking a brow.
“In a good way,” I quickly recovered. Shit. Real smooth.
Blaine chuckled, and that fascinating sound chipped at the wall around my forgotten heart. “I wasn’t aware there was a good kinda nervous. But I’ll take it. Anything to see your cheeks get pink like that. You have no idea how it makes me feel when that happens.”
Speechless. I was rendered completely speechless and my cheeks had taken on a life of their own and complied with his wishes. The smile that spread across Blaine’s lips as he took in my reddened face was undeniable and I suddenly felt completely stripped bare before him. I just wanted to cover myself and hide. But Blaine wasn’t having that. Before my nerves sent me cowering in a corner, his head dipped, placing his lips at my earlobe.
“I know you said you don’t feel anything,” he whispered. “But can you honestly say that you don’t feel this? That this heat, this attraction, is all in my head? Don’t think about it; just answer. Tell me what your heart wants to say and not what your head keeps trying to make you believe.”
I swallowed down the ‘no’ that was already reflexively building in my throat and let Blaine’s proximity push away the fear. His presence did that for me; it got me out of my own way.
“Yes, Blaine,” I rasped. “I feel it.” I did. I felt all of it. I felt all of him.
If you haven't added FOF to your TBR, do it now! It will be out July 18th on Amazon, B&N, Kobo and hopefully iBooks, just in time for some beach reading.
For those who don't know, it is inspired by true events. So there will be some truth between the pages. ;) Check out the teaser below. Hope you enjoy!
“Hey,” I smiled, stepping behind the bar and tying the little black apron around my waist. Dive had just opened and was completely empty aside from the day shift preparing for the lunch crowd.
Blaine turned from his task of refilling the soda dispenser and crooked a grin. I could only describe it as polite, and that fact tore me in two.
“Hey, Kami.” His deep chocolate eyes narrowed. “You change your hair?”
I twirled a lock of my honey blonde highlighted mane and shrugged. “Felt like I needed a change.” I didn’t have the guts to tell him that it was really an attempt at bribery by Angel. She knew I was a whore for spa days at the upscale salon she frequented and used my weakness to try to get me to gush about my feelings for Blaine. It didn’t fully work as she intended but I did throw her a bone: I told her I was attracted to him. It was harmless enough. Even a 90 year old deaf and blind woman would have a raging lady boner for him.
Blaine gave me the most genuine smile I had seen from him in days and I swear I felt something in my chest swell. “I like it. Makes you look…I don’t know… devastatingly sexy.”
I didn’t try to stifle the blush that I could feel heating my cheeks. I embraced it. It was the first time I had felt anything but regret in days. “Yeah?”
“Hell yeah,” he said, closing the distance between us in three long strides.
And there it was again. The smell of mint and spice and pure male. The heat that seemed to roll off his body and enfold me like a mink blanket. Those intense brown eyes that made me forget my own name and had me imagining screaming out his. Him. It was all him. Blaine somehow made me forget me. The me that wasn’t allowed to feel all these beautiful, exciting things. The me that didn’t believe in happy endings. The me that was unlovable, and in turn, could never, ever love.
“You were sexy before…unbelievably so. But the way the golden strands seem to meld with your green eyes, it just… wow. Makes it hard to look at anything or anyone else.”
I sucked in a breath of air and let it out slowly through my mouth, closing my eyes in attempt to regain some sense of composure. “Blaine…” I couldn’t say anymore. His name, occupying my tongue like his skin once did, was enough.
“I’m sorry,” he sputtered quickly, breaking me from the sweet memories of tasting him. My eyes fluttered open to him looking sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with a tattooed hand. Shit, even that was sexy.
“I think I should explain.” He rolled the barbell in his mouth before flashing me a strained grin. “I have this habit of always saying how I feel, no matter how embarrassing it is. A long time ago, I didn’t speak my mind. I didn’t ask the right questions because I was afraid of the answers. And life shitted on me because I kept my mouth shut. So I vowed to always be brutally honest and let the chips fall where they may. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.”
I looked away, seeking refuge from his penetrating stare. It didn’t make me uncomfortable. His words, his presence, it made me anxious. It made that pesky flutter in my stomach evolve into a full on swarm of butterflies.
“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable,” I replied, speaking my truth. For once, I didn’t let fear suppress my first instinct. “But you do make me nervous.”
“Nervous?” Blaine asked, crooking a brow.
“In a good way,” I quickly recovered. Shit. Real smooth.
Blaine chuckled, and that fascinating sound chipped at the wall around my forgotten heart. “I wasn’t aware there was a good kinda nervous. But I’ll take it. Anything to see your cheeks get pink like that. You have no idea how it makes me feel when that happens.”
Speechless. I was rendered completely speechless and my cheeks had taken on a life of their own and complied with his wishes. The smile that spread across Blaine’s lips as he took in my reddened face was undeniable and I suddenly felt completely stripped bare before him. I just wanted to cover myself and hide. But Blaine wasn’t having that. Before my nerves sent me cowering in a corner, his head dipped, placing his lips at my earlobe.
“I know you said you don’t feel anything,” he whispered. “But can you honestly say that you don’t feel this? That this heat, this attraction, is all in my head? Don’t think about it; just answer. Tell me what your heart wants to say and not what your head keeps trying to make you believe.”
I swallowed down the ‘no’ that was already reflexively building in my throat and let Blaine’s proximity push away the fear. His presence did that for me; it got me out of my own way.
“Yes, Blaine,” I rasped. “I feel it.” I did. I felt all of it. I felt all of him.
January 29, 2013
DL book club event & TDP cover reveal!
If you haven't joined the event already, be sure to do it soon! It'll be two whole weeks of all things Dark Light & DORIAN, kicking off on Feb 1st. Tons of games & prizes to be won!
To mark the festivities, I will also be revealing the cover for The Dark Prince on the Dark Light Series FB page. Don't miss out!
https://www.facebook.com/events/13177...
To mark the festivities, I will also be revealing the cover for The Dark Prince on the Dark Light Series FB page. Don't miss out!
https://www.facebook.com/events/13177...
January 15, 2013
Partial First Chapter of The Dark Prince
First half of Chapter 1 of The Dark Prince. Enjoy!!
***SPOILER ALERT***
Do not read if you have not read Dark Light!!!!
Chapter One
Numb.
I have never wanted to be an unfeeling sack of flesh and bone more than in this moment. Because I feel everything. Pain. Betrayal. Grief. Sorrow. Every fucking thing I hate about feeling. Everything I’ve tried so hard to avoid.
I look down at the photograph crumpled in my rigid grip. It suddenly feels like glowing red hot coal in my hand. It burns me, sears the skin of my palm. In my hand I hold everything that I love. My parents, both adopted and biological. And him.
Dorian.
I know what this is. I know this is my truth. My past. My present. My future. It is what I knew all along and, like a freaking idiot, ignored because my beautiful illusion was so much better than my tragic reality.
For once, I had embraced happiness. Bliss. In spite of finding out what I was, finding out that I was a half Light, half Dark inbreed, I was happy. Even with a damn supernatural assassin out for my blood, I was content. Because of him. He made me whole. A new and improved Gabs. A girl that wanted to be good enough. For him.
Fuck. Him.
On autopilot, I stuff the photo into my purse. Then I am mindlessly dressing myself. Right arm in sleeve. Left arm in sleeve. Sweatshirt over my head. Legs sliding in jeans. Feet stepping into shoes. I’m almost there. I’m almost numb.
“Gabi?” my mom asks as I breeze by the living room robotically. I stop in my tracks and gaze at her, my face stoic and unreadable. “Dear, where are you going? Are you ok?”
I look at my adopted parents, the wholesome couple that took me in and cared for me as their own when I was nothing remotely like their own. I am not even human. But they gave me a human life. Despite the pure evil festering within me, bubbling just at the surface, they chose to believe I could be like them. They wanted to believe I could be good.
Fuck. Good.
I fish the photograph out of my purse and thrust it towards them without another glance or word. What would I even say?
Found this picture of you guys and my birth parents. And by the way, I am screwing that guy in it. Plus he hasn’t aged a day. In twenty-freakin’-years. No big deal.
“Where did you get this?” Chris asks, though it sounds like more of a demand in his low timbre.
“I don’t know,” I hear myself say. “I think it was in Natalia’s book. I just found it.”
“Oh my God, it’s us,” Donna replies in her breathy soprano. “Us and your parents, Natalia and Alexander…”
“And? And him?” I ask jutting out my finger at his maddeningly beautiful face. Dark hair, impossibly blue eyes, and that sexy smirk that makes me forget my own name. Him.
“Him? That’s, uh,” Donna stutters before swallowing. “He was your father’s friend. His partner.”
I meet her pale blue eyes and nod, needing no further explanation. “Dorian.”
Chris and Donna’s brows furrow simultaneously, first in confusion then in terrifying understanding.
“He’s here,” Donna squeaks, barely above a whisper. “Oh God, no. No. No!”
“Dammit!” Chris shouts. “How the hell did this happen? How do you know him?”
Donna crumbles into chest-heaving sobs. “Oh please, no! Please, Gabriella! Don’t tell me…don’t tell me it’s him! Don’t tell me he’s the one!”
She knew. For months she read it in my aura. She knew I was involved with someone and something had changed in me. She knew I had fallen in love. She just never imagined it could have been with the epitome of all that is corrupt and immoral in their world.
With him.
I couldn’t say anything. There was honestly nothing left to say. Admitting I was in love with Dorian would only throw salt in the wound. Theirs and mine.
“I have to go,” I mutter. I start to turn towards the door then hesitate. The photo. I need the photo. “Can I have that back?”
“Where are you going?” Chris asks. Again, it sounds like a demand. An accusation.
“I have to go,” I repeat. “To see…him. I have to know.” I snatch the photo from his grip and stuff it back into my purse.
“You have to know? Know what? What the hell is there to know?” Chris shouts.
My face heats with anger, tiny beads of sweat forming on my forehead. I reflexively swipe my sleeve across it. “Why he’s here. Why he came. Why he… I just need to know.”
“Absolutely not! You will not leave this house, do you hear me? Dorian is off limits!”
Chris steps towards me with the intent of grasping me by the shoulders. Yet for some reason he recoils, stumbling several steps back, shielding his wife with his broad body. I hadn’t even noticed the lights. Every light in the entire house is blinking rapidly, casting ghastly shadows across their horrified faces. It’s happening again.
And then I feel it. My hands are hot; scorching. And though it feels as if I have thrust them into a raging fire, it does not burn me. I look down at my palms, enraptured in a dull red haze, glowing hot with fury. They are trembling uncontrollably. My whole body is. I can’t stop it; I can’t even understand it. Anger and grief have completely overpowered me.
This isn’t numbness. This is wrath.
Tiny icicles assault my retinas, pricking my eyelids until they sting. My eyes feel too cold, frozen even, yet my vision is not obscured. I can see…everything. As if I have been blind for twenty years. The arteries beating in their rigid necks, the tight flex of their jaws, the fear inscribed in their faces. I see it all. I see them. Human. Frail. Infantile. I had always considered myself as one of them, but as I gaze upon them now, they appear alien to me. I can’t comprehend this sudden revelation but I know it is real. It is the realest thing I have ever felt.
“Gabriella,” Donna whispers hoarsely. “Please.”
She’s pleading. Begging. Why? Her petrified tone startles me and my emboldened resolve falters. The tremors cease, the red glow from my hands extinguished. Even my eyesight has dimmed and the alarming chill has dissipated. I tumble back down to Earth. Back to my humanity.
“There’s something you need to know. Please let us explain before you go,” she pleads from behind Chris.
I nod stiffly, afraid to do or say more to provoke their fear. I can’t be certain what would happen if I did. She steps around my dad cautiously and stands to face me. Chris’s eyes dance wildly between us, his fists pressed into tight balls of hard steel.
“Dorian was your father’s partner. The one who tried to keep Alex and Natalia’s secret. He wanted to keep them safe; to keep you safe. But once word traveled back to the Dark, he was taken. His punishment was harsh but he was spared.”
I fold my arms in front of my chest, not completely sure where Donna is going with this. I already knew that from Natalia’s journal. “Ok. He was punished; I get that. But he suffered a loss too. He lost his best friend. Why do I need to stay away from him?”
“Dorian is…special. And that is the only reason why he was not executed along with your father. He made a deal to save his own life. He was petrified- frozen in time, his magic stripped from him. His sentence was 20 years.” Donna takes a step towards me, her expression a mix of fright and concern. “The deal Dorian made was that he had to kill you. Once he was released from petrification, he had to hunt you down and slaughter you. And if he fails, he will be put to death.”
I struggle to process Donna’s words, my already shattered heart desperately urging my brain to reject it. But even in angst my mind can’t hold onto the illusion. I know what she is saying is true. Dorian was sent here to kill me. Everything we’ve shared, every ounce of passion we’ve exchanged has been a lie. And somewhere amidst all my hang-ups and denial, I knew it all along. What else could he possibly want from me?
I turn towards the front door when I feel a large hand grasp my forearm. “Where are you going?” Chris asks.
My glazed eyes fall to his grip and he instantly pulls it back. “I have to see him. I have to hear him say it.”
“What? Why? Did you not just hear your mother? He will kill you, Gabriella! He does not want you! He does not care about you! You are nothing but prey to him!”
Chris’s words sink the knife deeper into my hemorrhaging chest. I laboriously swallow down the bile rising in my throat. “I need to hear him say it,” I repeat with a shaky voice. “He’s not going to get away with being a coward. If he wants me dead, he has to tell me himself.”
“No, Gabriella! Don’t do it! He will kill you!” Donna shrieks. But I don’t meet her horrified eyes. I don’t respond to their pleas to stay in the safety of our home, away from the darkness that craves my demise. I am already out the door, guided by my own darkness festering deep inside me.
I don’t notice that I am at the Broadmoor until I am already there. I don’t even know how I managed to make it here in one piece. But as I gaze upon the double doors of Dorian’s suite, I can literally feel my heart beating out of my chest. I know I’ve been standing here staring at it but I’ve completely lost all sense of time.
The door suddenly swings open, startling me out of my anguished daze. And I am face to face with him. Dorian. Still dressed in his suit and tie, he is so amazingly gorgeous it physically hurts to look at him. His black hair is styled in its usual disheveled perfection. His jaw is shaved and smooth. Even his eyes seem bluer and brighter. I bite down the gasp at his splendor and fight the urge to melt into his arms.
“Gabriella? Are you ok?” he asks after a moment of my gawking. His eyes rest on my face, no doubt housing a mixture of pain and confusion. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
I take a deep breath, my head swirling with questions. I don’t even know where to start. How do I even formulate all this into words?
“I…know. Who you are, what you are. I know,” a hoarse voice croaks. I can hardly recognize it as my own.
Dorian’s expression darkens instantly, his mouth turning up into a menacing snarl. Even his eyes have turned cold and icy, and I swear I can feel my blood freeze over. He takes a step back, holding the door open wider.
“Come in.”
Come in? I’ve just told Dorian that I know he is an evil, sadistic mythical creature and he wants me to come in? Hell no!
Dorian sighs, letting his eyes close for just a moment before looking to me. They are full of emotion- sorrow, regret, anger. Why?
“It’s ok, Gabriella. I won’t hurt you. I want you to come in.”
And as crazy and stupid as it sounds, I believe him. I have to. The man before me is my heart and soul. Every part of me screams for him, yearns for him. And even if he has lied to me, I can’t deny what I feel for him. I just can’t turn it off. And I seriously hate myself for that.
I square my shoulders and will my shaky legs to carry me forward into the suite. Even as I pass him, even as our bodies meet with the slightest brush of the shoulders, I am on fire for him. Even as fear flows through me in staggering ripples, all I want to do is bury myself in his arms and let him ease my trepidation. Trepidation I feel for him.
How stupid can you get, Gabs?
The reality of Dorian’s real reason for being here nudges me and I am reminded of Chris’s terse words. Dorian doesn’t care about me. He doesn’t want me. He is completely incapable of ever loving me. I need to let those truths fuel what’s left of my courage.
I spin around, my survival instincts kicking in. No matter what I feel for him, he can’t be trusted. All pathetic signs of adoration are erased from my face, replaced with disdain and anger.
“You can relax. I won’t attack you from behind,” Dorian mutters, clicking the door closed. He walks past me and heads to the bar to pour himself a drink, downing it in one hefty gulp. He refills then pours one for me as well.
“You won’t?” I ask flatly, taking the crystal glass from his outstretched hand. I take a sip, my throat not even registering the burn.
“No,” he responds before running his hand through his silken locks. “That’s not how I…operate.”
“But you will. You will hurt me. That is what you were sent here for, correct?” I take another sip, hoping it brings me one step closer to absolute detachment. It hurts too much to feel.
“Yes.” Dorian downs his own poison before looking back at me devoid of all emotion.
“Why?” my quivering voice cracks. “So all this was a lie? I’m just an assignment? A target? You really are some murderous piece of shit? What the fuck, Dorian! Why?!”
I wait for an answer yet Dorian simply continues to stare at me blankly. Doesn’t he want to explain himself? Doesn’t he have anything to say? He just continues to stand there, unreadable and unfeeling. His silence infuriates me and I can’t contain my agitation. Even my fear can’t override my temper.
“Ummm, hello? I’d appreciate an answer, asshole,” I spew angrily. Still, Dorian remains silently impassive, causing wrath to take over. “So it’s true. You really are a cold-hearted prick who preys on defenseless young women. What kind of man are you? That’s sick, Dorian. You are one sick, sadistic fuck.”
Somehow my harsh words pierce through his stoic guise and Dorian’s mouth twists into a vicious snarl, bearing his gleaming white teeth. His eyes narrow menacingly and have lightened into the palest of blues, too frightening to be beautiful. And his face- a face so unbelievably gorgeous that I lose all sense of coherent thought- shifts into a place of pure evil.
He is no longer my Dorian. The man I love is gone.
The Dark Prince
***SPOILER ALERT***
Do not read if you have not read Dark Light!!!!
Chapter One
Numb.
I have never wanted to be an unfeeling sack of flesh and bone more than in this moment. Because I feel everything. Pain. Betrayal. Grief. Sorrow. Every fucking thing I hate about feeling. Everything I’ve tried so hard to avoid.
I look down at the photograph crumpled in my rigid grip. It suddenly feels like glowing red hot coal in my hand. It burns me, sears the skin of my palm. In my hand I hold everything that I love. My parents, both adopted and biological. And him.
Dorian.
I know what this is. I know this is my truth. My past. My present. My future. It is what I knew all along and, like a freaking idiot, ignored because my beautiful illusion was so much better than my tragic reality.
For once, I had embraced happiness. Bliss. In spite of finding out what I was, finding out that I was a half Light, half Dark inbreed, I was happy. Even with a damn supernatural assassin out for my blood, I was content. Because of him. He made me whole. A new and improved Gabs. A girl that wanted to be good enough. For him.
Fuck. Him.
On autopilot, I stuff the photo into my purse. Then I am mindlessly dressing myself. Right arm in sleeve. Left arm in sleeve. Sweatshirt over my head. Legs sliding in jeans. Feet stepping into shoes. I’m almost there. I’m almost numb.
“Gabi?” my mom asks as I breeze by the living room robotically. I stop in my tracks and gaze at her, my face stoic and unreadable. “Dear, where are you going? Are you ok?”
I look at my adopted parents, the wholesome couple that took me in and cared for me as their own when I was nothing remotely like their own. I am not even human. But they gave me a human life. Despite the pure evil festering within me, bubbling just at the surface, they chose to believe I could be like them. They wanted to believe I could be good.
Fuck. Good.
I fish the photograph out of my purse and thrust it towards them without another glance or word. What would I even say?
Found this picture of you guys and my birth parents. And by the way, I am screwing that guy in it. Plus he hasn’t aged a day. In twenty-freakin’-years. No big deal.
“Where did you get this?” Chris asks, though it sounds like more of a demand in his low timbre.
“I don’t know,” I hear myself say. “I think it was in Natalia’s book. I just found it.”
“Oh my God, it’s us,” Donna replies in her breathy soprano. “Us and your parents, Natalia and Alexander…”
“And? And him?” I ask jutting out my finger at his maddeningly beautiful face. Dark hair, impossibly blue eyes, and that sexy smirk that makes me forget my own name. Him.
“Him? That’s, uh,” Donna stutters before swallowing. “He was your father’s friend. His partner.”
I meet her pale blue eyes and nod, needing no further explanation. “Dorian.”
Chris and Donna’s brows furrow simultaneously, first in confusion then in terrifying understanding.
“He’s here,” Donna squeaks, barely above a whisper. “Oh God, no. No. No!”
“Dammit!” Chris shouts. “How the hell did this happen? How do you know him?”
Donna crumbles into chest-heaving sobs. “Oh please, no! Please, Gabriella! Don’t tell me…don’t tell me it’s him! Don’t tell me he’s the one!”
She knew. For months she read it in my aura. She knew I was involved with someone and something had changed in me. She knew I had fallen in love. She just never imagined it could have been with the epitome of all that is corrupt and immoral in their world.
With him.
I couldn’t say anything. There was honestly nothing left to say. Admitting I was in love with Dorian would only throw salt in the wound. Theirs and mine.
“I have to go,” I mutter. I start to turn towards the door then hesitate. The photo. I need the photo. “Can I have that back?”
“Where are you going?” Chris asks. Again, it sounds like a demand. An accusation.
“I have to go,” I repeat. “To see…him. I have to know.” I snatch the photo from his grip and stuff it back into my purse.
“You have to know? Know what? What the hell is there to know?” Chris shouts.
My face heats with anger, tiny beads of sweat forming on my forehead. I reflexively swipe my sleeve across it. “Why he’s here. Why he came. Why he… I just need to know.”
“Absolutely not! You will not leave this house, do you hear me? Dorian is off limits!”
Chris steps towards me with the intent of grasping me by the shoulders. Yet for some reason he recoils, stumbling several steps back, shielding his wife with his broad body. I hadn’t even noticed the lights. Every light in the entire house is blinking rapidly, casting ghastly shadows across their horrified faces. It’s happening again.
And then I feel it. My hands are hot; scorching. And though it feels as if I have thrust them into a raging fire, it does not burn me. I look down at my palms, enraptured in a dull red haze, glowing hot with fury. They are trembling uncontrollably. My whole body is. I can’t stop it; I can’t even understand it. Anger and grief have completely overpowered me.
This isn’t numbness. This is wrath.
Tiny icicles assault my retinas, pricking my eyelids until they sting. My eyes feel too cold, frozen even, yet my vision is not obscured. I can see…everything. As if I have been blind for twenty years. The arteries beating in their rigid necks, the tight flex of their jaws, the fear inscribed in their faces. I see it all. I see them. Human. Frail. Infantile. I had always considered myself as one of them, but as I gaze upon them now, they appear alien to me. I can’t comprehend this sudden revelation but I know it is real. It is the realest thing I have ever felt.
“Gabriella,” Donna whispers hoarsely. “Please.”
She’s pleading. Begging. Why? Her petrified tone startles me and my emboldened resolve falters. The tremors cease, the red glow from my hands extinguished. Even my eyesight has dimmed and the alarming chill has dissipated. I tumble back down to Earth. Back to my humanity.
“There’s something you need to know. Please let us explain before you go,” she pleads from behind Chris.
I nod stiffly, afraid to do or say more to provoke their fear. I can’t be certain what would happen if I did. She steps around my dad cautiously and stands to face me. Chris’s eyes dance wildly between us, his fists pressed into tight balls of hard steel.
“Dorian was your father’s partner. The one who tried to keep Alex and Natalia’s secret. He wanted to keep them safe; to keep you safe. But once word traveled back to the Dark, he was taken. His punishment was harsh but he was spared.”
I fold my arms in front of my chest, not completely sure where Donna is going with this. I already knew that from Natalia’s journal. “Ok. He was punished; I get that. But he suffered a loss too. He lost his best friend. Why do I need to stay away from him?”
“Dorian is…special. And that is the only reason why he was not executed along with your father. He made a deal to save his own life. He was petrified- frozen in time, his magic stripped from him. His sentence was 20 years.” Donna takes a step towards me, her expression a mix of fright and concern. “The deal Dorian made was that he had to kill you. Once he was released from petrification, he had to hunt you down and slaughter you. And if he fails, he will be put to death.”
I struggle to process Donna’s words, my already shattered heart desperately urging my brain to reject it. But even in angst my mind can’t hold onto the illusion. I know what she is saying is true. Dorian was sent here to kill me. Everything we’ve shared, every ounce of passion we’ve exchanged has been a lie. And somewhere amidst all my hang-ups and denial, I knew it all along. What else could he possibly want from me?
I turn towards the front door when I feel a large hand grasp my forearm. “Where are you going?” Chris asks.
My glazed eyes fall to his grip and he instantly pulls it back. “I have to see him. I have to hear him say it.”
“What? Why? Did you not just hear your mother? He will kill you, Gabriella! He does not want you! He does not care about you! You are nothing but prey to him!”
Chris’s words sink the knife deeper into my hemorrhaging chest. I laboriously swallow down the bile rising in my throat. “I need to hear him say it,” I repeat with a shaky voice. “He’s not going to get away with being a coward. If he wants me dead, he has to tell me himself.”
“No, Gabriella! Don’t do it! He will kill you!” Donna shrieks. But I don’t meet her horrified eyes. I don’t respond to their pleas to stay in the safety of our home, away from the darkness that craves my demise. I am already out the door, guided by my own darkness festering deep inside me.
I don’t notice that I am at the Broadmoor until I am already there. I don’t even know how I managed to make it here in one piece. But as I gaze upon the double doors of Dorian’s suite, I can literally feel my heart beating out of my chest. I know I’ve been standing here staring at it but I’ve completely lost all sense of time.
The door suddenly swings open, startling me out of my anguished daze. And I am face to face with him. Dorian. Still dressed in his suit and tie, he is so amazingly gorgeous it physically hurts to look at him. His black hair is styled in its usual disheveled perfection. His jaw is shaved and smooth. Even his eyes seem bluer and brighter. I bite down the gasp at his splendor and fight the urge to melt into his arms.
“Gabriella? Are you ok?” he asks after a moment of my gawking. His eyes rest on my face, no doubt housing a mixture of pain and confusion. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
I take a deep breath, my head swirling with questions. I don’t even know where to start. How do I even formulate all this into words?
“I…know. Who you are, what you are. I know,” a hoarse voice croaks. I can hardly recognize it as my own.
Dorian’s expression darkens instantly, his mouth turning up into a menacing snarl. Even his eyes have turned cold and icy, and I swear I can feel my blood freeze over. He takes a step back, holding the door open wider.
“Come in.”
Come in? I’ve just told Dorian that I know he is an evil, sadistic mythical creature and he wants me to come in? Hell no!
Dorian sighs, letting his eyes close for just a moment before looking to me. They are full of emotion- sorrow, regret, anger. Why?
“It’s ok, Gabriella. I won’t hurt you. I want you to come in.”
And as crazy and stupid as it sounds, I believe him. I have to. The man before me is my heart and soul. Every part of me screams for him, yearns for him. And even if he has lied to me, I can’t deny what I feel for him. I just can’t turn it off. And I seriously hate myself for that.
I square my shoulders and will my shaky legs to carry me forward into the suite. Even as I pass him, even as our bodies meet with the slightest brush of the shoulders, I am on fire for him. Even as fear flows through me in staggering ripples, all I want to do is bury myself in his arms and let him ease my trepidation. Trepidation I feel for him.
How stupid can you get, Gabs?
The reality of Dorian’s real reason for being here nudges me and I am reminded of Chris’s terse words. Dorian doesn’t care about me. He doesn’t want me. He is completely incapable of ever loving me. I need to let those truths fuel what’s left of my courage.
I spin around, my survival instincts kicking in. No matter what I feel for him, he can’t be trusted. All pathetic signs of adoration are erased from my face, replaced with disdain and anger.
“You can relax. I won’t attack you from behind,” Dorian mutters, clicking the door closed. He walks past me and heads to the bar to pour himself a drink, downing it in one hefty gulp. He refills then pours one for me as well.
“You won’t?” I ask flatly, taking the crystal glass from his outstretched hand. I take a sip, my throat not even registering the burn.
“No,” he responds before running his hand through his silken locks. “That’s not how I…operate.”
“But you will. You will hurt me. That is what you were sent here for, correct?” I take another sip, hoping it brings me one step closer to absolute detachment. It hurts too much to feel.
“Yes.” Dorian downs his own poison before looking back at me devoid of all emotion.
“Why?” my quivering voice cracks. “So all this was a lie? I’m just an assignment? A target? You really are some murderous piece of shit? What the fuck, Dorian! Why?!”
I wait for an answer yet Dorian simply continues to stare at me blankly. Doesn’t he want to explain himself? Doesn’t he have anything to say? He just continues to stand there, unreadable and unfeeling. His silence infuriates me and I can’t contain my agitation. Even my fear can’t override my temper.
“Ummm, hello? I’d appreciate an answer, asshole,” I spew angrily. Still, Dorian remains silently impassive, causing wrath to take over. “So it’s true. You really are a cold-hearted prick who preys on defenseless young women. What kind of man are you? That’s sick, Dorian. You are one sick, sadistic fuck.”
Somehow my harsh words pierce through his stoic guise and Dorian’s mouth twists into a vicious snarl, bearing his gleaming white teeth. His eyes narrow menacingly and have lightened into the palest of blues, too frightening to be beautiful. And his face- a face so unbelievably gorgeous that I lose all sense of coherent thought- shifts into a place of pure evil.
He is no longer my Dorian. The man I love is gone.
The Dark Prince
December 27, 2012
The Dark Prince Teaser #3
NOTE: The following contains scorching HOT sexual content that will make you blush if not faint from the sudden rush of blood to *ahem* certain regions. If you have any health conditions that cause you to pant uncontrollably, grope strangers and/or hump lamp posts, DO NOT READ!
*hehehehe*
Large, soft hands caress every inch of my naked body, alternating wet kisses on every erogenous zone. My neck. My shoulders. My nipples. My belly bottom. The back of my knees. The sensitive skin of my inner thighs. One hand grasps the satin sheets while my other reaches out to the source of my pleasure. My fingers weave through silken strands of hair, tugging gently. He brings his head up to mine, a sexy half-smile on his full lips. Dorian. Naked and utterly beautiful.
“Do I make you feel good, baby?” he murmurs as he nuzzles into my neck, licking and sucking a trail to my earlobe.
“Mmmm, yes, Dorian,” I coo, letting my eyes close.
“How good?” His teeth graze my skin, sending prickly heat down to the pit of my belly.
“So. Good,” I gasp.
His hands are still all over me- rolling my nipples between those magic fingers, teasing my swollen clit. I pull him down, unable to resist not feeling his lips for a second more. Dorian sucks my tongue into his mouth, nipping and tasting until I feel I could explode from his kiss alone. Another set of hands joins his yet I am too caught up in Dorian’s flavor to even be startled. The hands are large, strong yet soft. They are moving up my thighs, replacing Dorian’s fingers as he moves to cup and fondle my aching breasts. When he pulls away, our erotic intruder comes into view.
Jared. Holy shit! Jared!
He’s all hardened muscle, sun-kissed skin and a smattering of sexy, dark tattoos on his chest and biceps. Shit, he’s gorgeous and my body instantly responds to him. He grins seductively while swirling my sex with long, adept fingers. I look to Dorian, awaiting the onslaught of his wrath yet he gazes back at me with nothing but pure unadulterated desire as he continues to flick and caress. As if it were choreographed, they switch places- Dorian between my legs and Jared at my torso. He licks his lips, taking in the sight of my naked body for the very first time.
“God, Gabs, I want you so bad,” he rasps. “I’ve wanted you for so long. Too long. Do you want me?”
Do I? Hell yes!
I feel Dorian’s wet tongue on my inner thighs, his teeth nibbling the sensitive area. I moan, unable to overanalyze an appropriate response. “Yes, Jared,” I breathe, just as Dorian slowly inserts a finger inside me, making it impossible to back-peddle.
Simultaneously, their tongues are inside me- Jared in my mouth and Dorian in my dripping wet heat. My body shudders at the sensation and I moan into Jared’s mouth as his hands find my heavy mounds. I know I won’t be able to hold on. It just feels too good. So. Damn. Good.
-The Dark Prince
*hehehehe*
Large, soft hands caress every inch of my naked body, alternating wet kisses on every erogenous zone. My neck. My shoulders. My nipples. My belly bottom. The back of my knees. The sensitive skin of my inner thighs. One hand grasps the satin sheets while my other reaches out to the source of my pleasure. My fingers weave through silken strands of hair, tugging gently. He brings his head up to mine, a sexy half-smile on his full lips. Dorian. Naked and utterly beautiful.
“Do I make you feel good, baby?” he murmurs as he nuzzles into my neck, licking and sucking a trail to my earlobe.
“Mmmm, yes, Dorian,” I coo, letting my eyes close.
“How good?” His teeth graze my skin, sending prickly heat down to the pit of my belly.
“So. Good,” I gasp.
His hands are still all over me- rolling my nipples between those magic fingers, teasing my swollen clit. I pull him down, unable to resist not feeling his lips for a second more. Dorian sucks my tongue into his mouth, nipping and tasting until I feel I could explode from his kiss alone. Another set of hands joins his yet I am too caught up in Dorian’s flavor to even be startled. The hands are large, strong yet soft. They are moving up my thighs, replacing Dorian’s fingers as he moves to cup and fondle my aching breasts. When he pulls away, our erotic intruder comes into view.
Jared. Holy shit! Jared!
He’s all hardened muscle, sun-kissed skin and a smattering of sexy, dark tattoos on his chest and biceps. Shit, he’s gorgeous and my body instantly responds to him. He grins seductively while swirling my sex with long, adept fingers. I look to Dorian, awaiting the onslaught of his wrath yet he gazes back at me with nothing but pure unadulterated desire as he continues to flick and caress. As if it were choreographed, they switch places- Dorian between my legs and Jared at my torso. He licks his lips, taking in the sight of my naked body for the very first time.
“God, Gabs, I want you so bad,” he rasps. “I’ve wanted you for so long. Too long. Do you want me?”
Do I? Hell yes!
I feel Dorian’s wet tongue on my inner thighs, his teeth nibbling the sensitive area. I moan, unable to overanalyze an appropriate response. “Yes, Jared,” I breathe, just as Dorian slowly inserts a finger inside me, making it impossible to back-peddle.
Simultaneously, their tongues are inside me- Jared in my mouth and Dorian in my dripping wet heat. My body shudders at the sensation and I moan into Jared’s mouth as his hands find my heavy mounds. I know I won’t be able to hold on. It just feels too good. So. Damn. Good.
-The Dark Prince
December 24, 2012
Deleted Scene from DL
Merry Christmas all!!
Here is the original prologue from Dark Light. It takes place a year before, showcasing the relationship Gabs had with her friends, especially Jared. Enjoy!!!!
-S.L. Jennings
St. Patrick’s Day 2011
“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!” the raucous crowd of O’Malley’s chants, pumping their fists in the air.
“Holy shit! She’s really doing it!” a random jock wearing a UCCS t-shirt yells over the roar of cheers.
“Hell yeah! That’s my girl! Your friend obviously doesn’t know who he’s dealing with,” Morgan retorts proudly.
I gulp down the giant mug of green beer, keeping my eyes on my struggling opponent, a 200+ pound rugby player. Panic is etched in his face, and as he sputters the food-colored brew all over the front of his shirt, I slam down my empty glass on the table, throwing double fists in the air in victory. The bar erupts into a chorus of rowdy praises and applauds.
“I believe you owe me fifty bucks,” I say to my deflated challenger.
“Aw, come on, sweetheart. You don’t really expect me to pay you, do you? It’s all in good fun,” he sneers. He runs his hand over his brown buzz cut nervously, clearly embarrassed.
“Hell yes, I expect you to pay! Just like you’d expect me to hold up my end of the bargain and show you my tits if I would have lost. Now pay up,” I demand holding out my palm. Buzz Cut takes in the wall of hard muscle glaring at him from behind me- my three best guy friends, Jared, James, and Miguel. Realizing that he and his buddies would have a hell of a fight on their hands if he refuses to honor our bet, he begrudgingly pulls out his wallet and hands me two twenties and a ten.
“Pleasure doing business with you. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before underestimating a- as you said- little ass girl, who’d probably get wasted off a wine cooler. Who’s the little bitch now, sweetheart?” I wink.
“Damn, man!” his friend taunts him as I turn to walk away with my winnings. “Hustled by a tiny chick! Aw, shit! You are officially lame!”
Morgan wraps her arm around my shoulders, leading me deeper into the crowd of drunken college kids, our guy friends following closely behind us. “Hey, there’s a group of hotties that would like to buy us a celebratory drink. You in?”
“Sure, let’s do it,” I smile. I turn around and slap the ten dollar bill in Jared’s hand. “Next round is on me, guys. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a free drink waiting for me!”
“Sure you haven’t had enough, Gabs?” Jared asks with an arch of his brow. Apprehension flickers in his emerald green eyes.
“I’m fine! Besides, it’s St. Patty’s Day! Isn’t the idea to get as wasted as humanly possible?”
Before Jared can respond with what would have probably been a mature, reasonable alternative, Morgan pulls me away, leading me to a table of three green-clad guys. She makes introductions, but my head is so fuzzy I forget their names as soon as she says them. Not that I really care.
“So, Gabriella, that was pretty impressive back there,” one of them says. I notice he has a light beauty mark above his lip and a great head of blonde hair. Pretty cute, definitely doable.
“Thanks. My personal goal in life is to embarrass as many douchebag jocks as I possibly can. Stick around; I’m sure another opportunity will present itself soon enough,” I quip.
Just as his friend, a tall, chocolaty Adonis, begins to ask Morgan and me what school we attend, their friend bounds up with a tray of tequila shots. Awesome. Less talking, more drinking. The guys distribute the drinks and we raise them to the sky, toasting to my notable beer-chugging skills before throwing them back. The liquor singes my throat, yet I don’t reveal any sign of discomfort. I seductively blow out my heated breath through glossy, puckered lips, aware that there are more than a few sets of eyes on me. Oooh, it burns so good.
We begin to all make small talk, and while the guys are definitely cute enough, I search the bar for a pair of dazzling green eyes and a coif of unruly chestnut hair. I finally spot Jared at the pool tables and he’s gazing back at me questioningly, worry etched in his gorgeous face. I flash him a bright smile, ensuring him that I am okay, yet his expression is still stoic. Miguel taps him, indicating that he’s up, and we reluctantly break our gaze.
“Hey guys, Gabs just had a birthday a few days ago! She’s finally nineteen!” Morgan announces. She has settled onto the Adonis’s lap and he is loving every second of it.
“Is that right?” Blondie replies. “Well, I believe that calls for another shot!”
Four tequila shots and three more mugs of green beer later, I am in my element. For most, drunkenness would consist of slovenly humiliation and immoral behaviors, which at 1am, the bar is teeming with. However, I never feel more alive, more like me than when I’ve had a few too many. All caution and inhibitions are out the window, and I am too distracted to keep up my tough girl pretense. The guys are eating out the palm of my hand, hanging on to every crude joke and suggestive anecdote. Even Blondie has consumed enough liquid courage to make his move, asking for my contact info and if I’d be interested in hanging out with him until the wee hours of the morning. I think to make him sweat, diverting my attention to the song that blares from the bar’s speakers.
“Oh shit! I love this song!” I shout over the noise. I instantly begin to sway my hips to the beat, running my hands through my long dark waves.
Blondie’s eyes are glued to my modest cleavage peeking out from my tight t-shirt and the curve of my butt accented by tight jeans.
“Hey, get your pretty ass up here!” he yells, grabbing my hand and pulling me onto the table. Never being one to back down from a challenge, I climb on and resume my sexy dance to Fall Out Boy for all of O’Malley’s to see. And I don’t hold back; I really give them a show worth talking about, letting the heavy drumbeats and guitar riffs carry me to a place where silly hang-ups and inhibitions don’t inhabit. Morgan cheers me on from below, grinding her generous backside into Adonis’s welcoming lap.
“Hey Gabs, get the hell down from there! You’ll hurt yourself!” Jared says from below. I hadn’t even noticed that he had made his way over here.
“Jared! There you are!” I squeal. I break out into song, serenading him with an air mic to my lips while whipping my wild curls from side to side.
Jared humors me for a few minutes, slightly amused at my salacious performance. “Ok, Gabs, that’s enough. Time to go, ok?”
“Alright, alright, fine,” I huff letting his hands grip me under my arms and carry me down. My head is swimming and I’m numb from the neck up. Jared is probably right; he usually is.
I feel someone pull me by the hand as I try to smooth my wild mane. “So, ready to get outta here?” It’s Blondie, and the look on his face screams pure, unadulterated lust. Seeing my little show must’ve sealed the deal for him.
“Dude, she’s not going anywhere but home,” Jared replies, pulling me away from my new suitor.
“And who the fuck are you?” Blondie spews. He stands to his feet, looking Jared up and down with alcohol-induced rage in his eyes.
Jared chuckles a bit, shaking his head at the boy band wannabe. “I am the guy who is making sure she doesn’t get taken advantage of by douchebags like you. So do yourself a favor and walk away. You don’t want these problems,” he says casually.
“Oh yeah? Well maybe I do!” Blondie loses his damn mind and shoves Jared, alerting his friends of the altercation going down that they were previously oblivious to. They jump to their feet just as Miguel and James make their way over. Morgan abandons the Adonis and stands with them.
The fuck? Now I’m sober.
“Don’t you fucking touch him!” I shout at Blondie, who actually isn’t as cute now that I’ve taken off the beer goggles. I give him a hard shove of my own, causing him to fly backwards into his friends. They push him forward onto his feet, clearly hoping to see this escalate.
“You bitch! You’re nothing but a worthless slut who probably woulda been a lousy lay anyway!” he yells, jabbing his finger in my face.
Before Blondie can even brace for my tumultuous reaction, Jared pummels him with a solid right hook, causing him to crash into the table. Empty mugs and shot glasses shatter everywhere as Blondie plummets to the ground in a pathetic pile of drunken testosterone. His friends help him onto his wobbly legs and I see that blood is dripping from his mouth. He squares his shoulders and puts his fists up, hoping to redeem himself as he sways woozily from right to left.
Jared again chuckles and waves him off. “Come on, Gabs, let’s go,” he says pulling me through the crowd. James and Miguel’s eyes stay on his friends, ensuring that they don’t make an offensive move towards us.
“That’s right! You better run, asshole! I’ll take you and your little bitch too!” I hear from behind us.
I stop in my tracks. Oh, hell no. No one insults Jared. And no one especially calls me a bitch, unless you’re Morgan, who uses it as a term of endearment. I turn on my heel and close the few feet between us in three swift strides. Blondie’s eyes grow wide with terror as he assesses the look of sheer fury on my face. Too bad he was too preoccupied or he would have seen my right cross coming straight for his eye. It was enough to send him flying backwards into his friends, knocking them all to the ground. After ensuring that Blondie wouldn’t be getting up any time soon, I spin around and join my friends who have just realized that I have gone back to finish off the bleach blonde asshat.
“Shit, Gabs, what the hell am I gonna do with you?” Jared laughs as we scramble to the car. James, our DD for the evening, slides into the driver’s seat and revs up his old Dodge Shadow.
“What are you talking about?” I feign ignorance. “I never professed to be a good girl. And besides, you know you love me just the way I am! A loud, crazy, shit-talking drunk!” I giggle.
Jared smiles his dazzling boyish grin and tightly wraps his arm around my shoulders in the backseat. “That I do, Gabs. That I do.”
It’s the last thing I hear before nuzzling into the warmth and safety of his hard chest and inhaling the scent of Irish Spring soap before passing out.
Here is the original prologue from Dark Light. It takes place a year before, showcasing the relationship Gabs had with her friends, especially Jared. Enjoy!!!!
-S.L. Jennings
St. Patrick’s Day 2011
“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!” the raucous crowd of O’Malley’s chants, pumping their fists in the air.
“Holy shit! She’s really doing it!” a random jock wearing a UCCS t-shirt yells over the roar of cheers.
“Hell yeah! That’s my girl! Your friend obviously doesn’t know who he’s dealing with,” Morgan retorts proudly.
I gulp down the giant mug of green beer, keeping my eyes on my struggling opponent, a 200+ pound rugby player. Panic is etched in his face, and as he sputters the food-colored brew all over the front of his shirt, I slam down my empty glass on the table, throwing double fists in the air in victory. The bar erupts into a chorus of rowdy praises and applauds.
“I believe you owe me fifty bucks,” I say to my deflated challenger.
“Aw, come on, sweetheart. You don’t really expect me to pay you, do you? It’s all in good fun,” he sneers. He runs his hand over his brown buzz cut nervously, clearly embarrassed.
“Hell yes, I expect you to pay! Just like you’d expect me to hold up my end of the bargain and show you my tits if I would have lost. Now pay up,” I demand holding out my palm. Buzz Cut takes in the wall of hard muscle glaring at him from behind me- my three best guy friends, Jared, James, and Miguel. Realizing that he and his buddies would have a hell of a fight on their hands if he refuses to honor our bet, he begrudgingly pulls out his wallet and hands me two twenties and a ten.
“Pleasure doing business with you. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before underestimating a- as you said- little ass girl, who’d probably get wasted off a wine cooler. Who’s the little bitch now, sweetheart?” I wink.
“Damn, man!” his friend taunts him as I turn to walk away with my winnings. “Hustled by a tiny chick! Aw, shit! You are officially lame!”
Morgan wraps her arm around my shoulders, leading me deeper into the crowd of drunken college kids, our guy friends following closely behind us. “Hey, there’s a group of hotties that would like to buy us a celebratory drink. You in?”
“Sure, let’s do it,” I smile. I turn around and slap the ten dollar bill in Jared’s hand. “Next round is on me, guys. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a free drink waiting for me!”
“Sure you haven’t had enough, Gabs?” Jared asks with an arch of his brow. Apprehension flickers in his emerald green eyes.
“I’m fine! Besides, it’s St. Patty’s Day! Isn’t the idea to get as wasted as humanly possible?”
Before Jared can respond with what would have probably been a mature, reasonable alternative, Morgan pulls me away, leading me to a table of three green-clad guys. She makes introductions, but my head is so fuzzy I forget their names as soon as she says them. Not that I really care.
“So, Gabriella, that was pretty impressive back there,” one of them says. I notice he has a light beauty mark above his lip and a great head of blonde hair. Pretty cute, definitely doable.
“Thanks. My personal goal in life is to embarrass as many douchebag jocks as I possibly can. Stick around; I’m sure another opportunity will present itself soon enough,” I quip.
Just as his friend, a tall, chocolaty Adonis, begins to ask Morgan and me what school we attend, their friend bounds up with a tray of tequila shots. Awesome. Less talking, more drinking. The guys distribute the drinks and we raise them to the sky, toasting to my notable beer-chugging skills before throwing them back. The liquor singes my throat, yet I don’t reveal any sign of discomfort. I seductively blow out my heated breath through glossy, puckered lips, aware that there are more than a few sets of eyes on me. Oooh, it burns so good.
We begin to all make small talk, and while the guys are definitely cute enough, I search the bar for a pair of dazzling green eyes and a coif of unruly chestnut hair. I finally spot Jared at the pool tables and he’s gazing back at me questioningly, worry etched in his gorgeous face. I flash him a bright smile, ensuring him that I am okay, yet his expression is still stoic. Miguel taps him, indicating that he’s up, and we reluctantly break our gaze.
“Hey guys, Gabs just had a birthday a few days ago! She’s finally nineteen!” Morgan announces. She has settled onto the Adonis’s lap and he is loving every second of it.
“Is that right?” Blondie replies. “Well, I believe that calls for another shot!”
Four tequila shots and three more mugs of green beer later, I am in my element. For most, drunkenness would consist of slovenly humiliation and immoral behaviors, which at 1am, the bar is teeming with. However, I never feel more alive, more like me than when I’ve had a few too many. All caution and inhibitions are out the window, and I am too distracted to keep up my tough girl pretense. The guys are eating out the palm of my hand, hanging on to every crude joke and suggestive anecdote. Even Blondie has consumed enough liquid courage to make his move, asking for my contact info and if I’d be interested in hanging out with him until the wee hours of the morning. I think to make him sweat, diverting my attention to the song that blares from the bar’s speakers.
“Oh shit! I love this song!” I shout over the noise. I instantly begin to sway my hips to the beat, running my hands through my long dark waves.
Blondie’s eyes are glued to my modest cleavage peeking out from my tight t-shirt and the curve of my butt accented by tight jeans.
“Hey, get your pretty ass up here!” he yells, grabbing my hand and pulling me onto the table. Never being one to back down from a challenge, I climb on and resume my sexy dance to Fall Out Boy for all of O’Malley’s to see. And I don’t hold back; I really give them a show worth talking about, letting the heavy drumbeats and guitar riffs carry me to a place where silly hang-ups and inhibitions don’t inhabit. Morgan cheers me on from below, grinding her generous backside into Adonis’s welcoming lap.
“Hey Gabs, get the hell down from there! You’ll hurt yourself!” Jared says from below. I hadn’t even noticed that he had made his way over here.
“Jared! There you are!” I squeal. I break out into song, serenading him with an air mic to my lips while whipping my wild curls from side to side.
Jared humors me for a few minutes, slightly amused at my salacious performance. “Ok, Gabs, that’s enough. Time to go, ok?”
“Alright, alright, fine,” I huff letting his hands grip me under my arms and carry me down. My head is swimming and I’m numb from the neck up. Jared is probably right; he usually is.
I feel someone pull me by the hand as I try to smooth my wild mane. “So, ready to get outta here?” It’s Blondie, and the look on his face screams pure, unadulterated lust. Seeing my little show must’ve sealed the deal for him.
“Dude, she’s not going anywhere but home,” Jared replies, pulling me away from my new suitor.
“And who the fuck are you?” Blondie spews. He stands to his feet, looking Jared up and down with alcohol-induced rage in his eyes.
Jared chuckles a bit, shaking his head at the boy band wannabe. “I am the guy who is making sure she doesn’t get taken advantage of by douchebags like you. So do yourself a favor and walk away. You don’t want these problems,” he says casually.
“Oh yeah? Well maybe I do!” Blondie loses his damn mind and shoves Jared, alerting his friends of the altercation going down that they were previously oblivious to. They jump to their feet just as Miguel and James make their way over. Morgan abandons the Adonis and stands with them.
The fuck? Now I’m sober.
“Don’t you fucking touch him!” I shout at Blondie, who actually isn’t as cute now that I’ve taken off the beer goggles. I give him a hard shove of my own, causing him to fly backwards into his friends. They push him forward onto his feet, clearly hoping to see this escalate.
“You bitch! You’re nothing but a worthless slut who probably woulda been a lousy lay anyway!” he yells, jabbing his finger in my face.
Before Blondie can even brace for my tumultuous reaction, Jared pummels him with a solid right hook, causing him to crash into the table. Empty mugs and shot glasses shatter everywhere as Blondie plummets to the ground in a pathetic pile of drunken testosterone. His friends help him onto his wobbly legs and I see that blood is dripping from his mouth. He squares his shoulders and puts his fists up, hoping to redeem himself as he sways woozily from right to left.
Jared again chuckles and waves him off. “Come on, Gabs, let’s go,” he says pulling me through the crowd. James and Miguel’s eyes stay on his friends, ensuring that they don’t make an offensive move towards us.
“That’s right! You better run, asshole! I’ll take you and your little bitch too!” I hear from behind us.
I stop in my tracks. Oh, hell no. No one insults Jared. And no one especially calls me a bitch, unless you’re Morgan, who uses it as a term of endearment. I turn on my heel and close the few feet between us in three swift strides. Blondie’s eyes grow wide with terror as he assesses the look of sheer fury on my face. Too bad he was too preoccupied or he would have seen my right cross coming straight for his eye. It was enough to send him flying backwards into his friends, knocking them all to the ground. After ensuring that Blondie wouldn’t be getting up any time soon, I spin around and join my friends who have just realized that I have gone back to finish off the bleach blonde asshat.
“Shit, Gabs, what the hell am I gonna do with you?” Jared laughs as we scramble to the car. James, our DD for the evening, slides into the driver’s seat and revs up his old Dodge Shadow.
“What are you talking about?” I feign ignorance. “I never professed to be a good girl. And besides, you know you love me just the way I am! A loud, crazy, shit-talking drunk!” I giggle.
Jared smiles his dazzling boyish grin and tightly wraps his arm around my shoulders in the backseat. “That I do, Gabs. That I do.”
It’s the last thing I hear before nuzzling into the warmth and safety of his hard chest and inhaling the scent of Irish Spring soap before passing out.
December 12, 2012
2nd Teaser from The Dark Prince- out March 2013
Enjoy another sneak peek of TDP!
*May contain spoilers*
“Hmmm, this is fitting,” Dorian murmurs, handing me a fresh glass of champagne just as Rihanna’s “S&M” comes on, spinning a salacious tale of bad girls who like it rough.
“How so?” I ask, downing half my drink.
Dorian places his hand on the small of my back, letting his fingers slide up to meet my bare skin. I instantly feel the titillating tingles accompanied by his touch coursing through my body. “Because you like it. You like pain with your pleasure.”
He’s right, but I still play coy, hoping to prolong our little game. “And how would you know that?”
Answering my question, Dorian lets his hand travel farther north to the nape of my neck, right above the beginning of my healing tattoo. With a sudden jerk, he knots his hand in my hair, brusquely pulling me towards him so his mouth is on mine. I gasp in shock and at the sharp pain ripping through my scalp, giving his forceful tongue the leeway it needs to command my mouth. To an outsider, it looks like we are just two lovers sharing a tender kiss. However, the tight grip Dorian has on my hair, causing my head to snap back violently, actually hurts, feeling like tiny daggers attacking my strained hair follicles. His other hand flies up to my exposed throat, cradling it tightly. He gives it a firm squeeze, and I moan into his mouth.
“Careful, little girl. Your Dark is showing,” he murmurs against my lips. Then he bites my bottom one hard enough to deliver a sting before letting me go.
-The Dark Prince (March 2013) S.L. Jennings
*May contain spoilers*
“Hmmm, this is fitting,” Dorian murmurs, handing me a fresh glass of champagne just as Rihanna’s “S&M” comes on, spinning a salacious tale of bad girls who like it rough.
“How so?” I ask, downing half my drink.
Dorian places his hand on the small of my back, letting his fingers slide up to meet my bare skin. I instantly feel the titillating tingles accompanied by his touch coursing through my body. “Because you like it. You like pain with your pleasure.”
He’s right, but I still play coy, hoping to prolong our little game. “And how would you know that?”
Answering my question, Dorian lets his hand travel farther north to the nape of my neck, right above the beginning of my healing tattoo. With a sudden jerk, he knots his hand in my hair, brusquely pulling me towards him so his mouth is on mine. I gasp in shock and at the sharp pain ripping through my scalp, giving his forceful tongue the leeway it needs to command my mouth. To an outsider, it looks like we are just two lovers sharing a tender kiss. However, the tight grip Dorian has on my hair, causing my head to snap back violently, actually hurts, feeling like tiny daggers attacking my strained hair follicles. His other hand flies up to my exposed throat, cradling it tightly. He gives it a firm squeeze, and I moan into his mouth.
“Careful, little girl. Your Dark is showing,” he murmurs against my lips. Then he bites my bottom one hard enough to deliver a sting before letting me go.
-The Dark Prince (March 2013) S.L. Jennings
December 3, 2012
First peek at Book 2, The Dark Prince!
Here is an excerpt from Book 2 of The Dark Light Series, The Dark Prince.
*May contain spoilers so don't read if you have not yet read Dark Light!
"I hear his words but the peril still doesn’t register. There is no room left in me to feel anything else but immense pain. I can literally feel my heart splinter into several jagged pieces, the ache radiating in my chest and spreading throughout my body like a cancer. I don’t even notice the tears streaming down my hot cheeks until Dorian brushes them away. I resist the urge to burrow my face in his hand.
“So this is it? You’re going to do it?” I whisper with a weak, wavering voice. My brash and bold nature has completely abandoned me. I was defeated from the start.
“Yes.” The look on his face is pure agony and regret. Why? This is what he’s wanted all along, toying with my heart just to get close to me. Yet this is not the face of a cold-hearted paranormal killer. This is the face of a man tormented by his own demons.
I let my eyes close, before allowing myself one last glimpse of his beautiful face. Dorian. My very own angel of death. “Ok. I’m ready.”
I feel his fingers brush a trail from my cheek down to my collarbone, resting there to trace small circles with his thumb against my throat. His warm lips touch my forehead and I ease into the touch. A final kiss goodbye. I allow myself to savor it.
Dorian quietly mutters a few strangled words against my flushed skin in his secret, unnamed language. A language I’m not supposed to know, yet this time I understand every word. Words that I have craved to hear from his lips. Words that grip my shattered heart, trying to piece the jagged shards back together.
My eyes flutter open just as Dorian takes a step back, looking down at me in anguish. I let my hazels plunge into his glossy pools of azure as I offer those same words to him in my last dying breath.
“I love you, too.”"
S.L. Jennings
*May contain spoilers so don't read if you have not yet read Dark Light!
"I hear his words but the peril still doesn’t register. There is no room left in me to feel anything else but immense pain. I can literally feel my heart splinter into several jagged pieces, the ache radiating in my chest and spreading throughout my body like a cancer. I don’t even notice the tears streaming down my hot cheeks until Dorian brushes them away. I resist the urge to burrow my face in his hand.
“So this is it? You’re going to do it?” I whisper with a weak, wavering voice. My brash and bold nature has completely abandoned me. I was defeated from the start.
“Yes.” The look on his face is pure agony and regret. Why? This is what he’s wanted all along, toying with my heart just to get close to me. Yet this is not the face of a cold-hearted paranormal killer. This is the face of a man tormented by his own demons.
I let my eyes close, before allowing myself one last glimpse of his beautiful face. Dorian. My very own angel of death. “Ok. I’m ready.”
I feel his fingers brush a trail from my cheek down to my collarbone, resting there to trace small circles with his thumb against my throat. His warm lips touch my forehead and I ease into the touch. A final kiss goodbye. I allow myself to savor it.
Dorian quietly mutters a few strangled words against my flushed skin in his secret, unnamed language. A language I’m not supposed to know, yet this time I understand every word. Words that I have craved to hear from his lips. Words that grip my shattered heart, trying to piece the jagged shards back together.
My eyes flutter open just as Dorian takes a step back, looking down at me in anguish. I let my hazels plunge into his glossy pools of azure as I offer those same words to him in my last dying breath.
“I love you, too.”"
S.L. Jennings
November 25, 2012
Writer's block is a B!%ch in a corduroy thong
So I've got the Holy Trinity, of course:
laptop
iPod
bottle of red wine
And I still keep coming to the same effin place. I write, delete, write some more, and delete that ish too. Logged onto Pinterest, looked up a couple (hundred) pics of my favorite, swoon-worthy hotties: Ian, Henry, Rob, Stephen, Zac (making me feel like a chester btw, but hey, he's legal), Chris, Channing...you know the usual suspects. Turned up some Rihanna & danced like a stripper in my kitchen which unfortunately for my toddler, was pretty damn pathetic. Still nothing. Don't feel like writing and oddly, don't feel like reading.
So I guess I'll start reviewing. I've had the pleasure of reading some pretty darn incredible books recently & it's always great to spread the word. And maybe somewhere in between, I'll get inspired enough to use my laptop for more than watching really, really bad reality tv. Real Housewives, anyone?
laptop
iPod
bottle of red wine
And I still keep coming to the same effin place. I write, delete, write some more, and delete that ish too. Logged onto Pinterest, looked up a couple (hundred) pics of my favorite, swoon-worthy hotties: Ian, Henry, Rob, Stephen, Zac (making me feel like a chester btw, but hey, he's legal), Chris, Channing...you know the usual suspects. Turned up some Rihanna & danced like a stripper in my kitchen which unfortunately for my toddler, was pretty damn pathetic. Still nothing. Don't feel like writing and oddly, don't feel like reading.
So I guess I'll start reviewing. I've had the pleasure of reading some pretty darn incredible books recently & it's always great to spread the word. And maybe somewhere in between, I'll get inspired enough to use my laptop for more than watching really, really bad reality tv. Real Housewives, anyone?
November 20, 2012
DL Black Friday- Yeah, baby!
Best way to spend your Friday after Thanksgiving?
Curl up with a slice of leftover pumpkin pie and your free digital download of Dark Light, of course!
On Friday & Saturday (Nov. 23rd & 24th), Dark Light will be FREE on Amazon.com.
Happy Turkey Day, everyone!
Curl up with a slice of leftover pumpkin pie and your free digital download of Dark Light, of course!
On Friday & Saturday (Nov. 23rd & 24th), Dark Light will be FREE on Amazon.com.
Happy Turkey Day, everyone!
November 19, 2012
Why I Write...or at least try to
I have been told by more than a few (dozen) people that I am highly inappropriate. I think ‘vulgar’ was the exact word. I have the sense of humor of a Will Ferrell comedy, and have had more Hangover nights than I am proud of. Most people think I’m embarrassing. I think I’m a pretty cool chick.
With that said, I can admit that outside of my immediate circle of friends who totally ‘get’ me, I am not civilized enough for a regular 9-5 office job. Not even a Starbucks barista. I’d make some kind of crude joke about coffee beans or cream, or a combination of both. It’s a sickness, I tell ya.
So I write. I mean, sure, I can do something else with my life, but why should I? I love it; it is truly what I was built for. And when I sit at my laptop- headphones blasting, wineglass full, tapping away like a madwoman- I truly feel like me. I can be as crude and crass as I want to be. I can create a world where those qualities are not only redeeming but praised. And suddenly, I don’t feel so inappropriate. I feel like I belong.
So there it is. No deep, mystical calling ordained by the universe. I was just made to write. God wouldn’t have put this much awesome into one body if I wasn’t, right?
With that said, I can admit that outside of my immediate circle of friends who totally ‘get’ me, I am not civilized enough for a regular 9-5 office job. Not even a Starbucks barista. I’d make some kind of crude joke about coffee beans or cream, or a combination of both. It’s a sickness, I tell ya.
So I write. I mean, sure, I can do something else with my life, but why should I? I love it; it is truly what I was built for. And when I sit at my laptop- headphones blasting, wineglass full, tapping away like a madwoman- I truly feel like me. I can be as crude and crass as I want to be. I can create a world where those qualities are not only redeeming but praised. And suddenly, I don’t feel so inappropriate. I feel like I belong.
So there it is. No deep, mystical calling ordained by the universe. I was just made to write. God wouldn’t have put this much awesome into one body if I wasn’t, right?
